


The Three Lives and Near-Deaths of One Tommyinnit

by les_jupiter



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: ExileInnit, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Sad TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), not really but better safe than sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28105428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/les_jupiter/pseuds/les_jupiter
Summary: A countdown of the three canon lives Tommy currently has.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 61





	The Three Lives and Near-Deaths of One Tommyinnit

1.

Tommyinnit is trying his fucking best right now.

He will admit, it’s hard being in war. He could deal with conflict when it was something contained, something that only he had to deal with, but his home and his friends were being put in danger’s way and there was jack shit he could do about it. So he would do what he did best. 

He would put up with it.

At least, he thought he try. But after Eret, his friend and fellow soldier who had fought at his side, traded their L’Manberg insignia and blue uniform coat for the jeweled crown of the Dream SMP monarchy, he didn’t know who to trust anymore.

But if there’s on thing Tommyinnit is good at, it’s being stubborn. So even when his dreams were haunted by the smell of blood and screams inside the Final Control Room, he would never leave Wilbur’s cause, or his side, not until the bitter end.

(He didn’t know now how true that would be.)

So now he sat, placed very fittingly to the right of Wilbur, trying to pay attention during an important strategy meeting.

“-could try to use the element of surprise, but it would be risky.” The future president ran a hand through his hair, combing out the knots in his dark brown bangs. He muttered something about the Art of War under his breath.

He looked a lot more tired recently, with dark circles pooling under his eyes like ink. Tommy supposed it made sense. After Eret’s betrayal, paranoia plagued his brother like a dark cloud, shadowing his decisions. Now, the curtains had shut on him, and now he was no longer Wilbur, musician and friend; he was Wilbur Soot, formidable president of the newly recongized L’manberg.

Sometimes Tommy wished he didn’t have to be Tommyinnit, Vice-President and right hand man. Sometimes he wished he was allowed to be just Tommy.

\- - -

In a few months, he and Wilbur would leave everyone they’d ever cared for and everything they’d fought for in the dying embers of their presidency, a piece of kindling that lit the hearth of a fledgling nation.

Wilbur, who hangs up armor and swords and instead picks up quills and guitars, who tells people’s stories instead of ending them, who’s eyes shine with a passion for democracy and independence, lit by the fire of a kindling nation, and who’s words and leadership are the match that set it all ablaze, decides it’s not worth fighting for.

A few months more, and he leaves the city in ashes and tries to remember, to clear the oppressive smoke in his mind from swallowing up what was left, leaving him with nothing.

2.

Tommyinnit is there one second and on the ground the next.

He remembers drawing a bow, watching as the arrow he released sped past his opponent’s head, only for a twin one to loose from Dream’s bow and lodge itself in his own shoulder.

He thinks he hears someone call his name as knees buckle and elbows scrape against the riverbank. He thinks he feels several hands drag him up above the water that licks at his feet the rest on the grassy hill. He thinks someone is telling him it’ll be alright, and he doesn’t think they’re being truthful.

He thinks and he thinks and he thinks until the darkness tainting his vision swallows up his life and his consciousness.

\- - -

Tommyinnit has just about had it with being exiled.

It wasn’t like he was lonely or anything (God knows Wilbur tormented him enough, with his manic grins and obsession with pressing any button he came across, laughing to himself as Tommy frantically listened for the sound of TNT. And if that wasn’t enough, Techno’s presence certainly made sure he was never alone.)

But he missed L’manberg. He missed his home.

He missed Tubbo.

Sometimes he feels stupid for being homesick over a place that had cast him, one of the founding fathers, out like a trout that was too small. But he didn’t have the energy to be mad. The space in his chest that anger usually occupied was instead swallowed up by intense longing, longing for sunlight and wildflowers and bees and maybe getting out of this stupid fucking ravine.

But until his home welcomes him with open arms, he’ll just lean into the cold embrace of banishment.

\- - -

Tommyinnit barely has time to process it as his best friend is murdered in front of his eyes.

While he’s in the middle of screaming himself hoarse, the back of his mind wonders if this is what his death looked like. Of course, he and Tubbo were not strangers to death, they had both been lured into the Final Control Room, but he never had to witness it before.

He never had to watch the life drain out of someone like sand out of an hourglass.

His treacherous hands move on their own, as they so often do, throwing an ender pearl onto the stage where three bodies and one pig stood. Tommy felt his feet collide onto solid ground, the nausea of sudden teleportation being swallowed by the adrenaline pumping in his veins as he pivoted on his feet, pseudo-shielding Tubbo’s lifeless form.

He wasn’t going to fucking stand for this.

\- - -

Months later, Tubbo would once again throw him into exile, punishing him for a petty crime that should’ve blown over. He would be tormented by the literal and physical ghosts of his pasts, and the nightmares became almost unbearable, tearing to shreds what little sleep he already got. 

All the while, he would wonder about Tubbo, watch the small metal compass’ needle, and wonder if he was as worried about him as Tommy was.

3.

Tommyinnit stands looking over a pool of lava and considers his options.

The yellowed light of the lake below him practically reached into his bones, almost unbearable heat soaking into his skin. Every now and then the ominous surface would bubble, sending noxious gas upwards to fill his lungs and sting the corners of his eyes. Behind him, the nether portal churned almost inaudibly in the background as its purple tendrils of vapor shifted.

He ran a hand through his hair, a habit he’d picked up only recently. It would be easy, so easy, to step off as everyone suspected nothing on the other side of the nether. It would be so easy, in fact, that he almost didn’t realize his eyelids had closed, and his feet were dangling off the edge, and-

A hand grasps the back of his coat, and Dream’s voice carried from behind his ear.

“It’s not your time to die yet, Tommy.”

Tommy sighed. “It’s never my time to die.”

\- - -

In over than a week, Tommy would realize he was being manipulated. That Dream had only been using him. But there’s one thing he’d done right.

He needed that last canon life to fight with everything he had. And he wasn’t backing down this time.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> tried something kinda new with this one  
> hope you enjoyed! <3


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